Boney Mountain's unique role in my Wildflower training plan (shock, shame, and scare me into training more) makes it loom large in my memory. Plus, the mountain just looms large. You need two articles for a race like Boney. Out of curiosity, I did an overlay of the Boney Mountain Half Marathon vs. the Wildflower Long Course run to compare elevation changes.

Why does the Wildflower run feel so much steeper? #MaybeitsNastyGrade

Part 2 of my Boney Mountain race report picks up around mile 6 (if you missed Part 1, check it out here to help set the stage: https://lifeinzone2.silvrback.com/boney-mountain-half-marathon-race-report).

Free of sideaches and still feeling pretty good about my race prospects, I worked on settling into a nice rhythm for the climb. Many people run with music. I am not one of them. I'd like to say that I train without music because USA Triathlon rules prohibit competitors from racing with music (it's dangerous on the bike leg, and music can distract you from the pain enough to be considered a performance-enhancer). I'd like to say that I practice like I play. But I'm actually just lazy. My iPod mini (are those even a thing anymore?) is stashed safely and uselessly in my desk drawer. The 15 minutes it would take to create a playlist is 15 minutes that I'm not "recovering" (read: staring at the ceiling in bed on a weekend morning after the tenth snooze alarm).

So how does a purist, USAT-rules-following (read: lazy) triathlete find his rhythm for running with no music? My solution: tap into that ever-present song(s) stuck in your head.

At around mile 6.5 during Boney Mountain, a song stuck. I was running through a pleasant, wooded area along a streambed. Birds were chirping. The gatorade-Gu-stew I crushed at the last aid station was sloshing peacefully back and forth in my stomach. And I knew that the physically crushing, mentally defeating, and emotionally debilitating Boney Mountain was up next. I hit the first incline. My heart rate jumped. Oxygen rushed to my muscles (and away from my brain). And I think some of my brain cells started to die. My theory is that many of the brain cells my body decided to kill off first were dedicated to songs I'd last heard 5 years ago. Who needs 'em? In their desperate attempts to stay alive, those brain cells fired into my subconscious with haunting melodies from my past that just so happened to power me through the rest of the race, walking-free, like EPO in Lance Armstrong's veins. Join me on my musical trip through Boney Mountain's nastiest ascents:

Mile markers (approx.): 6.5-8.0
Song: Notorious Thugs
Artist: Notorious B.I.G. featuring Bone Thugs and Harmony
Equivalent Run Cadence: 155 bpm

Brain Cell Obituary: I had a good run cadence here and my body was feeling surprisingly fresh. With Boney Mountain on my mind, I started to say her name under my breath. "Boney....... Boney..... Boney Boney Boney." That chant somehow transformed into "Bone and Biggie." Also, in the song they're talking about getting high, just like me, climbing Boney Mountain. The song's about elevation gain, right?

Mile markers (approx.): 8.0-8.5
Song: ??
Artist: ??
Equivalent Run Cadence: ???

Brain Cell Obituary: May they rest in peace. I distinctly remember having another song pop into my head on the heels of Biggie and Bone Thugs, but I can't remember it. I even specifically told myself during the race that I should try to remember that song to maintain my full musical race history. But as soon as I crossed the finish line, there was nothing there for mile 8.0-8.5. Those brain cells lived a good life, but I will never remember that song again.

Mile markers (approx.): 8.5-9.0
Song: Purple Pills
Artist: D12 feat. Eminem
Equivalent Run Cadence: 125 bpm

Brain Cell Obituary: Mile 8.5 is the first (and only) respite you get while climbing Boney. It's a wonderful, yet shortlived, joy to hit this descent. I took the opportunity to try to catch my breath and refuel a bit. I took my zip-lock bag of Endurolyte pills out of my jersey so I could continue my plan to keep water and electrolytes balanced. But, naturally, I dropped them. And a Gu. I stopped and went back for the Gu, but decided not to go all Jesse Pinkman on the dry brush and dirt trying to find my lost pills. The oddity of popping pills while in the middle of a race made me laugh to myself.... and think of Eminem. Enter Purple Pills, a song I definitely haven't heard for 10 years, and I don't even like very much. But there it was, keeping me company for a half mile. The upbeat, faster pace of the song matched the descent.

Mile markers (approx.): 9.0-9.8
Song: Just a Friend
Artist: Biz Markie
Equivalent Run Cadence: 85 bpm

Brain Cell Obituary: Mile 9 starts the final mile and half uphill segment of Boney Mountain. The "Purple Pills" descent was much, much too short. So when I started going back uphill, I was very sad. I thought me and Boney Mountain had something special. But that final ascent confirmed it: we're just friends. And being friends with Boney Mountain doesn't mean much. It hurts (my legs, my heart, my pride). At least the beat was good for climbing. Still no walking for me.

Mile markers (approx.): 9.8-10.5, 11.6-11.9
Song: Inaudible Melodies
Artist: Jack Johnson
Equivalent Run Cadence: 74 bpm

Brain Cell Obituary: This is prime struggle bus territory, and the area where I walked for a full mile during last year's race. You'll notice my Equivalent Run Cadence has decreased over time and Pwny elevation. To get through this section of the race, I had to, as Jack Johnson says, "slow down....... you're moving too fast." Because at your current pace, your heart might explode. Someone may have passed me at that point of the race too, and I just wanted to tell him to slow down. Again, a perfect song for the perfect time. All I had to do was plod ahead, one foot in front of the other in a near-hike, not-quite-walk, trot up the hill. Still no walking.

Now, all I had to do was finish. You'll notice that the song popped back into my head during mile 11.6-11.9. After a long, glorious, and cartilage grinding descent, you have one more, very short climb during the race. At the time, though, it feels like a 2nd Boney Mountain. Very cruel. The thorny bushes of mental weakness started sprouting here. Could I really run the entire race and still succumb to mental weakness over a measly quarter-mile, the known last climb of the race? Luckily for me, Jack Johnson was in my head, whispering brushfire fairytales to me in the brushfire jeopardized backcountry of Boney Mountain. "Slow....down....everyone, you're moving too faaaassttt."

Is there a better motto for a Life in Zone 2?

I didn't walk. I finished the race slowly, but faster than last year. And I think, maybe, me and Boney Mountain CAN be friends. Just friends though.